Joey

Go big or go home

 

We’ve made it through the first three acts without any major missed cues or lines, just a few stumbles here and there.

Marlon’s wig went all catawampus on him and he had to adjust it during his scene, but it actually made the scene funnier for the audience. Marlon is a true professional and took it all in stride, using it to his advantage.

Me, on the other hand, have been nothing but nerves since the curtain went up. At one point, I caught a glimpse at the audience and thought I was about to puke all over the stage. I envisioned that chain-reaction puking scene from the movie Stand By Me, when the entire audience all started puking in unison.

Yet my nerves were also coupled with a slow-burning anger that’s grown every time I’m on stage with Theo – which is pretty much every other scene, since we’re the focal points of the play.

The beauty of my anger is that it’s somehow transformed me into Silvia, who is a little spitfire who busts balls every chance she gets. And luckily I get to take it all out on Theo, aka Chester, because I’m pissed as hell from what I witnessed before curtains went up.

I’d been a ball of nervous energy and staying in my tiny four-walled dressing room wasn’t helping my anxiety, so I figured I’d get out and walk around a little before curtain call. I was stepping out of my dressing room, ready to head backstage, when I saw Alyssa walking into Theo’s dressing room.

She was wearing a short sundress and strappy heels and looked like a golden starlet ready to meet her golden boy.

I seriously wanted to run up behind her, grab her by the hair, throw her to the ground and spit in her face like I did to Lucy Monroe in kindergarten. Childish, I know, but you would have done the same thing if you’d seen the look she gave me when she noticed me standing a few feet away.

It said, “I’ve won. He’s mine. Go get your own.”

I’ve never fought for anything I’ve wanted before. Maybe it’s how I was raised, to be grateful for everything I had and not hopeful for the things I couldn’t have. My mother’s motto was always, “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”

But that’s not my motto now.

After our behind-closed-doors discussion yesterday when Theo told me how proud he was of me, I’d finally decided to give him another chance. And after tonight’s performance I was going to tell him – or show him, rather.

I was going to throw a fit over him because I think Theo’s worth it. He’s everything I’ve always wanted in a guy. Sweet, funny, thoughtful, gorgeous and good in bed.

Nope, make that great in bed.

And yes, while I know he was confused about his feelings toward me and Alyssa, I want to make it perfectly clear where I stand. I’ll go down fighting for what I want. If I win and he decides he wants me back, great. Then the fight is worth it.

If Theo doesn’t choose me, well, then at least I’ve stood up, proved that I will always stand up for what I want and I’ll go down swinging. I’ll stand up for myself instead of cowering or going along with what someone else decides for me.

If I can do it for other people, I can certainly do it for myself.

And I’m going to start with my mother.

Who, as it ends up, did show up tonight and is sitting in the front row with her friend, Jean.

I about pissed my pants the first time I caught her sitting there. I was left stage and behind the curtain, scanning the crowd waiting for my cue. When I came out, my eyes found hers and I noticed an expression I’ve never seen before.

I think it was pride.

Either that or she had gas. Who really knows when it comes to her?

But whatever the reason, I’m happy she’s there tonight. She came through for me, which I suppose she’s always done in her own controlling manner, but this time it was something I wanted. Not what she wanted.

I’ve been side stage for the last lines, while Theo is doing his monologue. The scene cuts in where he’s out in his garden, pulling weeds and throwing them over the fence into Silvia’s yard to spite her. It leads into the big blow-up and kissing scene in Act Four.

It’s the scene where I get to go all bat-shit crazy on Theo, er, I mean, Chester.

The pivotal scene in the play where the tide turns for the neighbors, who have been at each other’s throats for weeks. They are night and day. He’s a cocky ego-maniac and she’s the high-strung exec who has to have her say in everything.

I watch in awe as Theo has the audience in the palm of his hand. He makes it appear so effortless. He’s confident when he’s on stage or directing from the sidelines.

The stage manager comes up behind me, his mic and headset obscuring his face, as he gives me my five second cue. But I’m already holding in my breath, waiting to walk on stage and give him a piece of my mind.

Technically, Silvia’s mind.

Geesh, acting can really screw with your head. I’m not sure at what point I’m Joey and when I’m Silvia these days.

“Three, two, one…” Roger says quietly and I gather my resolve and stride out in front of the audience.

My body and adrenaline take me over to my invisible cue mark on stage. There’s a short white-picket fence prop in the middle of the staged yards, indicating the property line between Chester and Silvia’s homes.

My flower basket is thrown over my forearm and swings as I step up and look down to where Theo – Chester – is kneeling with his back to me.

I pick up the discarded prop weeds, gripping them in my hand tight before throwing them at him.

“If you think I’m going to continue to put up with this crap, you have another thing coming. You need to learn a lesson on manners, Chester. Or at the very least, neighborly love.”

Theo’s head whips behind him and he pins me with his gaze. And then that cocky grin he uses – the one that gets me tingling down in my toes - pops up on his lips.

We’ve practiced this so many times, yet I’m exceptionally nervous right now. Perhaps it’s because we’re doing it in front of an audience, I don’t know. Or maybe because I have all these real emotions swirling around in my heart about him.

Theo’s literally turned my life inside out and upside down.

He stands slowly, brushing off his hands to get the “dirt” off, and stalks toward me. My tummy does somersaults as he stares into my eyes, never losing their connection.

When his toes hit the edge of the picket fence, our faces are inches from each other. His breath fans out across my face and he smells like cinnamon and cloves.

I’m waiting for the line that sets Silvia into a tailspin.

And I wait.

Why isn’t he saying his line?

I try to use mental telepathy to ask, my eyes squinting in question, but he just smiles.

And then he whispers so only I can hear it, “I love you, Joey.”

There’s a hitch in my breath and Theo just winks. What the hell did he just say? Am I hearing things? I look around left and right, and then over his shoulder to the side stage, confusion over what’s going on.

He follows it up with his line. “You, Miss Fancy-pants, wouldn’t know the first thing about neighborly love even if it bit you in the ass.”

I’m supposed to be outraged. Angry. Sexually frustrated.

Yeah, well, that part’s true after a week of no sex with Theo.

But I’m still stunned by what he just said. He cocks his head and eyebrow, waiting for my response. Or Silvia’s response. I don’t know which one right now.

Ack. My head is spinning.

Without my bidding, my hand comes up and slaps him across his stubbled jaw.

His expression is shock because that was unrehearsed.

Oops.

Serves him right for throwing me off my game in the middle of a production.

He just said he loves me and expects me to stay on script?

“How dare you, you insolent bastard! I’ve been more than neighborly since you moved in, thank you very much,” I place my hands on my hips in a haughty stance.

And then I poke him in the chest, emphasizing each of my next statements. “But what do I get in return? Is it thanks? Or gratitude? No…it’s weeds from your garden thrown into my yard. And those rose bushes. Good God. Chester, you know you’re overwatering those roses, right?”

“Must you always be such a know-it-all, Silvia? You’re always in my business.”

“Well I wouldn’t be in your business if your rose bushes weren’t on my property line.”

“Maybe you should worry about your own bush,” he says in that naughty undertone of innuendo and just as if on cue, the audience erupts in laughter.

“What would you like me to do, your majesty? Pull them all out and replant them elsewhere?”

This dialogue is leading up to the big kiss. My favorite part of the play. The one that I no longer have to act because I want to feel his lips on mine again, the crushing weight of them.

“No – I like having the roses there. But I think you should replant yourself somewhere else. Like Siberia.”

More laughter.

This is my cue to turn toward the audience and allow Theo to grab my arm and yank me back so he can kiss me.

I turn slightly, hoping the frustrated agony I’m supposed to be feeling is written across my features, and Theo grips my wrist to draw me back to him.

“I don’t want to move to Siberia. I don’t want to go anywhere without you, Joey.”

I blink and then my eyes go wide.

Does he realize he just said my name and not Silvia’s? Yikes, that’s a mistake.

But then he mouths to me, “It’s okay. I know.”

Theo palms my cheeks and my body feels like it’s floating and he’s anchoring me down to earth. The warmth of his hands seeps into my face, down my throat and sinks into my belly.

“I’m so glad my life imploded on me the way it did, otherwise I never would have ended up meeting you. I’ve been so many things in my life up to now, but what I’ve just realized is that I’ve never truly been in love. Not until you, Joey.”

I gulp. Shit, he said it again. This isn’t the line he wrote in the script!

I’m freaking out, panicking because I don’t know what to do or say. My eyes shift to the audience and then back to him, but he holds my head firmly in his hands.

His eyes tell me he’s not concerned about the audience. It’s just me and him right now. Theo and Joey. And no one else.

“I love you, Josephine Hughes. And I never want to go anywhere else unless you’re by my side. Hollywood, New York, South Bend. I don’t care. You’re the star on my boulevard. You’re my Silvia to my Chester. And I want you to be mine.”

Before I can say or do anything else, he kisses me. He leans in, as scripted, gripping the back of my head with one hand, the other resting at my neck, which is pulsing from the blood jolting through my veins.

I step closer, tilting my head in an effort to be as accessible as possible. He slants his mouth over mine, and kisses me slow and deep. I open my mouth to let his tongue slide in and it tangles with mine.

I savor the feel of his mouth. The taste that lingers. The scent of his breath.

Everything is for me. Not the audience who is sitting there right now probably confused by what’s happening.

And then I’m hit with the realization of what this means. What his unscripted confession means to me. To us.

I gradually pull away, his hands still locked behind my neck. Peering up into his hazel eyes that await my response, they hold me in his gaze.

“You said you love me,” I mutter and then gesture to the audience. “In front of everyone who came to see your play.”

He chuckles and turns to face the theater audience who are a mixture of confused, slightly baffled and curious as to what’s going on. Some have no clue that this isn’t part of the play.

“Yeah. Even your mother, who I’ll admit was really difficult to convince to get here. Hi Mrs. Hughes.”

Theo smiles and waves jovially toward where my mother sits, her hands folded in her lap. She nods her head and the place lights up with laughter.

When he returns to face me, he kisses me again.

“You woke me up, Joey. Made me realize that I wasn’t living the life the way I wanted to live. I wasn’t being true to myself. You pushed me and gave me the support I’d never had before. You gave me the confidence to be Chester.”

I shake my head and smile. “Theo, you are Chester. He’s not just a character. He’s inside of you” – I tap his chest – “and I love every single part. But I think we should discuss that later. I think these people might want us to finish the play.”

Theo tugs me in close, wrapping his strong, loving arms around me and hugs me tight. When he lets me go, he turns to the seated audience who is all a’twitter right now and slides his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry about that folks. We’re going to take a short, unscheduled intermission and then we’ll finish with Act Four. And as for this,” he points behind him where we were just making spectacles of ourselves. “I can guarantee you that the Saturday crowd won’t be treated to that same behind the scenes performance. Thanks for being here to witness me making a fool of myself.”

He winks and then grabs my hand and pulls me off stage as the lights go up and the curtain goes down.